


An Assortment of Moments

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A first time for everything references, AU, Alternate Universe, Crossover, Fusion, Gen, I had too much fun with backstory, London sanctum is not destroyed by the NY one is, Mentioned Eurus Holmes, Mentioned Molly, Mentioned Moriarty, Mentioned mrs. Hudson - Freeform, Possible Sherolly, bits and pieces, possible Mary/John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 09:13:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10408833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: Sherlock Holmes doesn't become a detective. He decides to be a doctor instead. It does not lead to what he thought it would, in fact, it leads somewhere better.Another, 'what if Sherlock is Doctor Strange?' story. Enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

> What am I doing?

~~~~Mycroft knew something was off with his brother, especially after the unfortunate accident involving his hands. Sherlock had always been... Delicate. He'd dedicated all of his genius to being an expert doctor, into being _the_ best because he would not settle for anything less than the being the absolute best. The accident and the permanent scarring of his talented hands was devastating- though he didn't want to admit it. His hands had been the only thing going for him to the goldfish of the world. He was arrogant, stubborn, rude, and he could expose every single one of their secrets to the world while he performed nearly impossible surgery.

Yes, it was a loss. Mycroft however, grew a little concerned when Sherlock, after a few months of searching for cures, still refused to accept that his hands would never again be suitable for surgery. In short Mycroft cut off his brother's supply of money until he came to his senses. Sherlock was furious and showed up at his door shouting curses and high from drugs. Again.

When Mycroft threatened rehab (again) his brother disappeared. Mycroft assumed he would show up his door, angrily giving in to his demands to stop searching for impossible cures.

Instead, Anthea was at his office with an uncomfortable look on her face when she pronounced that Sherlock had used the last of his money to book a flight to Kathmandu, Nepal.

Mycroft had frowned and Anthea shuffled, phone in hand as she typed rapidly. Mycroft finally replied after a tense silence, "Don't do anything, yet, my dear. I want to find out exactly what he is up too."

Anthea smirked, "With respect, sir, I am willing to bet that he figured it out."

Mycroft gave her a strained smile, "Our," he grimaced, "relationship with those people is already strained. I would hate for Sherlock to mess with it."

Anthea shrugged, "I can guarantee that they won't be bothered, in fact, _she_ is quite amused. I believe that she will allow no harm to come to the other Mr. Holmes."

Mycroft lazily waved her away, "Good. You may go report back to her if you wish, but I am leaving for an appointment with the Prime Minster in an hour, don't be late this time. James was quite astounded by your last miraculous appearance, I'd hate for there to be a repeat."

Anthea nodded, "Yes, sir."

She turned, heels clacking on the floor as she walked, hand already out and forming a circle of spinning orange and yellow light. She stepped through and vanished, the circle fizzing away into nothingness behind her.

Mycroft hummed to no one, clearly admiring his assistant's dramatics, "I don't believe I'll ever be tired of that."

* * *

 

Mary's lips quirked as she watched John Watson and Sherlock Holmes interact. John had come to her, a world weary man looking for healing. He'd been separated from all that he knew and loved, a completely empty and broken person. He'd come to her for healing and instead he'd become a soldier again. It had helped, in a way, but it had not made him whole again. Mary knew that she truly could not heal anyone, only time and perseverance, and just a little 'magic' would tell.

Then, the world famous surgeon, Sherlock Holmes had shown up at her door. He was every bit as arrogant as his brother, but there was something else there... It had persuaded her to give him a second chance, even after their encounter. It still irked her a little, sometimes when she thought about it.

_Sherlock had taken a look at the diagrams she'd shown him. At first, he'd been disgusted but he'd stopped, distracted somehow... He looked at her, then at the quiet short man in the corner before tilting his head and asking, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"_

_John Watson blanched, "Excuse me?"_

_"Earlier, in the alley, when you assisted me. You definitely have military training, and you checked me for a concussion even when I insisted I only had superficial injuries, so you're a doctor. Mostly likely an army doctor. You limp slightly, definitely favoring one leg more than the other, yet you stand straight with no trouble. It's psychosomatic. You were invalided home, but you looked for a cure, and found yourself here." Sherlock wrinkled his nose when he said her name, "When the Ancient One, here, said many came to her for healing, she gave you a significant glance. Obviously you're one of her successful patients, and one of the more recent British military activities going on is in the Middle East and so I say again, Afghanistan or Iraq?"_

_John sputtered for half a second, he was a man used to going unnoticed and underestimated. Yet, this obvious genius had ignored the more powerful entity in the room to ask him a trivial question. In the end he decided to voice his thoughts, "Afghanistan, that... Do you do that often?"_

_Sherlock shrugged and looked away, "Often enough."_

_"Wow... That... That was amazing."_

_Sherlock frowned and looked back at him, eyes hard- Mary could already see him trying to take apart the small man piece by piece to figure him out. Oh, something told her this was going to be fun._

_Mary coughed and the tall man reluctantly tore his gaze away from John, "And in response to you, oh, Ancient One," He pronounced mockingly, "I have seen those diagrams. In gift shops, in fact... but after analyzing the data, I have concluded that once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth. Teach me what you know," Sherlock's eyes narrowed significantly as he spoke, "Mary."_

She hadn't kicked him out, even though he was arrogant and rude and reminded Mary oh so much of _her_. She wanted to leave him because she knew she dared not risk it... But in the end, she had decided to let him in for John. She could see that Sherlock was good for him and while Mary might not be able to heal him, or anybody really, John might be able to heal himself with Sherlock at his side.

Even now, only a month after Sherlock had come to her desperate and proud, he and John had become fast friends. In fact, Sherlock had excelled rapidly and was now almost a match good enough to beat John at the mystical arts.

Mary stood still on the balcony in her pale yellow robes as John sparred with his best friend, psychosomatic limp quite gone.

Mary smiled before she turned to leave. Oh, she had been very very right.

They were good for each other.

* * *

 

Sherlock coughed into his sleeve as he stood shakily, staring at where the imprisoned woman had once been. Now, however, she was quite gone.

John stood behind him, breathing hard from the ordeal. After the blast from the New York sanctum being destroyed, separating the two from Mrs. Hudson the expert librarian (who was definitely not anybody's housekeeper- something she was oddly adamant about), they had been attacked by the three sorcerers. Sherlock claimed they were followers of a powerful being called Moriarty.

It had been a close exhausting battle, one that had required them slipping in and out of portals. In fact, after Sherlock had gotten stabbed, and scared the life out of John, he'd had to teleport into St. Bart's. When John had attempted to treat his wound, and complained about his lack of supplies and the need for a fellow Doctor (one who wasn't nearly unconscious) Sherlock had insisted that was where he needed to go.

Apparently, Sherlock had known a doctor there, Molly Hooper. She'd been quite helpful, after of course, he'd managed to get a short terse explanation out. Her training had kicked in and she'd helped a good deal despite the astral form of Sherlock annoyingly popping in and out of the plane of existence.

Now, they found themselves back at the London Sanctum surveying the wreck that the rogue sorceress had left. John sighed as he rubbed his eyes and eyed the 'Milford' Belstaff of Levitation sitting snuggly on Sherlock's shoulders.

The short blond man turned back to the destruction Eurus had left, "Well this was the stupidest thing I've ever done."

The Belstaff twitched its high collar slightly as Sherlock snorted, "Yes, and you invaded Afghanistan."

John gave a chuckle and very soon they were both laughing with relief. That was how Mary found them, with tears in their eyes and the destruction of half the London Sanctum. She was too relieved to be angry with them. They had survived, even with Sherlock's lack of true testing or preparation in the field. He and John were quite alright and for the moment, Eurus was gone.

The danger had passed and all was well. For now.

**Author's Note:**

> In the first section I made a few references to 'A First Time for Everything' by Blood-Sucker-1428. It's one of the best Mythea fics I have ever read.


End file.
